


Maester of Puppets

by Mytiny_Sybarite



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blackmail, F/M, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Possessive Behavior, Power Play, Suicidal Thoughts, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytiny_Sybarite/pseuds/Mytiny_Sybarite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb's new queen is ambitious, but if she's to win the Game of Thrones she must first teach the King in the North how to play. Every man wants something; all you have to do is find out what, and then he can be bent to your will... It turns out that what Robb Stark wants is Theon Greyjoy...</p><p>...Let the Game begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maester of Puppets

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on asoiaf kinkmeme - I've posted the original prompt in the notes at the end so it doesn't give away the plot (LOL... *plot*...) for those who don't want to know, but so that those who do want to know can sneak a peek :)
> 
> I will apologise now - I have no beta and this fic spiraled beyond my control...

**Maester of Puppets**

 

**Margaery**

It took Margaery a day of quiet observation to understand her new husband’s plans and intentions, but three more to _accept_ that it really was so simple. She felt uneasy, as though she’d missed something important. _This can’t be it?!_ Where was the ambition? The greed? The wrath and jealousy and _lust_ , for the sake of the gods!? The promises and bribes and betrayals? _Where are the politics!?_

Robb seemed truly honourable, honest and dutiful. He only wanted his sisters back, wanted justice for his father and had no plan for if he actually _won_ this war… he said he didn’t _want_ the Iron Throne. _Ridiculous!_ Even if Renly truly believed that, she certainly didn’t.

Margaery Tyrell wasn’t naïve enough to trust in human virtues – her upbringing had been too embroiled in court intrigue for her to overlook the strings attached to every favour, or miss the manipulation behind any kindness. Virtue was only a mask worn by the players to hide their true faces. _But what is Robb Stark’s true face? A wolf, snarling and feral, hungry for blood…? Or a frightened pup, wishing for nothing more than his mother’s teat?_ Every man wanted something; all you had to do was find out what and then he could be bent to your will. So she observed, waiting for the mask to slip.

Highgarden and Winterfell had seemed like the perfect union. Joffrey had wronged them both deeply. Robb’s betrothal to Myrcella Baratheon had turned to ash when the sadistic little King had ordered Ned Stark executed, and days later Margaery’s own betrothal to Joffrey Baratheon had been cast aside when he took Sansa Stark to wife. It was a flagrant insult to both great houses – not to mention proud, bitter Walder Frey and his outrage at having Sansa’s betrothal to his son broken. Joffrey had certainly made some mistakes; the Lannister’s were trying to claw ground and alliances back desperately. If they weren’t so rich, they’d be finished already.

But as the weeks passed, and the uneasiness did not, Margaery began to wonder if the alliance with the wolves had been a bad decision. _He is either as good a player as Lord Tywin, or he is so naïve he doesn’t realise it’s a game…_ She knew exactly which of those two options was the more likely and it made her heart sink.

If all went well, the best she could hope for was to live out her days in the cold north, as Queen of the Wolves and Wastelands. If all did _not_ go well, her husband’s honour and duty would get them both killed. Without a mask, he would not last even so long as his father had in King’s Landing. True enough, Robb was a gifted strategist, but in _battle_ and not at court; he did not yet understand that they were one and the same, and he needed to plan those attacks and alliances every bit as carefully. Still, what else was she for, if not to steer him through those dangerous waters? _But to steer a ship, one must have a rudder_. What leverage could she use? He had shown her no selfish desires, no darkness hidden in his pure heart. She had never known a man so devoid of desire!

And then The Ironboy returned to camp and changed the game entirely…

Margaery pursed her lips and watched from under her lashes as Robb laughed hard, eyes filled with a joy she hadn’t seen in him before. He gripped Theon Greyjoy’s shoulder for support, breathing hard and the other man leaned into him and ruffled his hair. Robb was the king; even if he was young and sweet, his men did not ruffle his hair. Even his mother treated him with absolute respect in front of his bannermen. But the tension had washed out of Robb. Margaery had more or less lost her maidenhead to him, and she’d never seen him so relaxed as he was just standing with this man.

It reminded her of the change Renly had wrought in her brother Loras; he became cocksure and comfortable in himself, and more alive. _Full of lightening_ , the Storm Lord had laughed, and though she’d been too young to understand when he’d said it, she’d still thought the description was apt.

Margaery knew to look for things that others assumed wouldn’t be there. Some hadn’t noticed Loras and Renly’s relationship right away, because they hadn’t expected it. Margaery had been young enough that she hadn’t known _not_ to expect it; that had been a valuable lesson. _See what’s there, not what you’re taught to expect_. Right from the start, they were exactly as any other pair smitten with one another. And Robb and Theon were dancing to the same tune. _Nobody will think anything of it if you’re always at my side, they won’t know if our casual touches send lightening through my veins, they won’t notice if my gaze catches on yours for too long… After all, you’re my best friend, my brother; they just don’t know us…_

Robb eventually remembered she was waiting and brought him over to meet her.

“May I present my queen, Margery Tyrell-”

“Stark now, Robb, not Tyrell,” she corrected sweetly – even so, he flushed at the correction.

“Of course. Margaery _Stark,_ ” he smiled apologetically at her, “this is Theon Greyjoy – he is my brother in all but blood.”

“Should you have introduced him as a Stark as well then…?”

Robb’s blush darkened and he glanced consciously as Theon, panic in his eyes, “His name is his own. I would not presume to take that away-”

“It was a jest, Your Grace,” Margaery smiled, laying a hand gently on Robb’s arm and watching for Theon’s reaction. Theon’s face was almost neutral; he was only looking at Robb’s face with a frown.

Then she turned to Theon and curtsied, “Theon Greyjoy, it is an honour to meet you.”

Theon leered with his bow, “A pleasure, Your Grace.”

There was something filthy in those innocuous words, something about the way he said _pleasure_ and it was a promise… it made Margaery shiver; she wondered if it had that same effect on her husband. She saw Robb tensing in her peripheral, caught her first glimpse of his true face... _And was that jealousy written in the set of his jaw, shining in his eyes…?_

Margaery smiled sweetly, “Come now, _Theon_ , if Robb says you’re his brother then you need not address me by my title when it’s only us. I am sure we shall be great friends,” and she took him by the arm with all the naïve familiarity of a younger sister. The Ironboy actually looked a little startled, glanced to Robb, but followed as Margaery tugged him gently to walk with her.

“I’m sure you could tell me some stories about _our_ Robb,” she looked up at him through lowered lashes as they walked together, Robb trailing in their wake. No doubt his face would be expressing his displeasure. She would have to teach him to keep his mask in place at all times; you never knew who was watching.

“None fit for ladies, Your Grace,” Theon smirked.

“ _Margaery_. And I think you’d be surprised about just how much _ladies_ can stomach, Theon.”

“Really…? Well, in that case,” Theon began, with a wicked smile and another glance at Robb, “there are a couple of stories…”

“We have _war council_ , Theon – or would you rather play ladies-maid to my wife and leave the fighting to the real men?” Robb snapped.

Margaery felt like crowing aloud – Robb was quipping! It was as close to flirting, or spite, as she’d ever seen. It was a start.

Robb turned to walk away and Theon dropped her a quick bow and a look of apology before following his king. She heard his reply to Robb as he jogged to catch him, “Well, given the choice between a boring war council or tending to the _needs_ of a beautiful woman,which would you choose?!”

Margaery suspected she knew Robb’s answer, but she wondered about Theon’s. She’d heard his reputation for whoring was little better than the Imp himself. She watched them walk away together, leaving her alone in a camp full of lonely, and probably depraved, soldiers and raised an eyebrow. They certainly presented Margaery with a new puzzle… and one she could sink her teeth into this time…

 

**Robb**

Robb smiled as Theon caught up with him and knocked his shoulder into him affectionately.

“Weren’t you tempted?” Robb asked in a low, serious voice, picking up their earlier conversation and hoping Theon was following.

“By your wife…?” Theon asked. He hadn’t followed; possibly by choice.

Robb laughed, “No, that’s not what I meant, but since you mention it…?”

“She’s a beautiful woman, Robb, and a queen besides. Just make sure you keep her satisfied, and that there’s always an abundance of hungry whores around for me, and we’ll never have to find out!” Theon grinned and winked. Robb knew Theon well enough to translate that to: _I’m not willing to say I’d never do that to you because we’re not girls, but I’d never do that to you,_ which was good enough for him.

Robb grinned, “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, what I actually meant was; weren’t you tempted by your family. Didn’t you consider taking their offer?”

Theon looked pained. Robb knew he wouldn’t speak about this if he could avoid it, which is why he was asking so directly. Theon was always so damned evasive.

 “Theon…?” Robb prodded.

 “Of course not. I said I was loyal to you, didn’t I?” Theon fidgeted, “Now, tell me about the alliance with Renly.”

“Theon… They’re your family,” Robb didn’t look at Theon. He knew he’d not have been able to make that choice himself. Theon looked angry, then guilty, then angry again.

“Then you _know_ I was tempted! It’s a stupid question! Of course I was! I’m sorry I’m not perfect. I’m weak and I failed your tests too,” Theon sounded so bitter, Robb flinched, “But I _didn’t_ betray you.”

“It wasn’t a test, Theon. I wanted to thank you… I can’t imagine how hard it was for you to choose. You proved that my trust in you was not misplaced.”

They reached the council tent and stopped outside.

“Then why put me in that position, if not to test me…?” Theon looked at him seriously, pain shining in his eyes and Robb longed to wash it away, but didn’t know how. All the words in the world seemed too small, but they were all he could offer; he didn’t know if Theon would accept anything more besides.

“I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do, anything you want…?” Robb asked.

“I bought you no alliance. Do I get a reward for merely returning? Like a dog? Was it _so_ unlikely I’d be loyal…?”

Theon looked so vulnerable that Robb reached out for him. Theon flinched away and Robb drew back his hand, “You made a great sacrifice, even if your father refused our alliance. I would compensate you for that loss.”

“Do you think anyone else would see it that way?” Theon turned and pushed his way into the tent.

Robb followed Theon inside and watched him greet the Northmen and River Lords – the Greatjon clapped him on the shoulder, welcoming him back, but others were cold towards him. Robb noted the names of the men who resented Theon, who didn’t trust him, even now. Theon was right. A reward would only make them resent him more, make him more of an outsider than he already was.

When all were seated, Robb asked Theon to report on his journey to Pyke. Theon stood and spoke, voice strong and clear, remaining coldly matter of fact as he told of his father’s refusal of their terms, and of his plans to sack the North and of his own escape from Pyke. Robb had only heard the bones of the tale earlier, before Theon had turned the conversation to lighter things, but he could tell that Theon was omitting painful details. He knew Theon too well for the shadows on his face to pass unnoticed. He could hear the tiny hesitation where his father had hit him, or worse, as part of the refusal; hear him skating over his fight with his sister, as though she’d only have used words against him; see the glaringly long amount of time that had elapsed between Theon’s proposition and his departure from Pyke, likely swallowed by drownings and darkness. He knew that none of his Lords would have seen any of those omissions in Theon’s detailed account. He shared what he’d learned of his father’s plans – worrying snippets that made Robb think it was time to return to the North. By the time he finished, Theon’s face was pale and drawn. However, the faces of those assembled were as grave, so they could hardly think him weak or a traitor. None could doubt his loyalty now, surely. He had done well.

Theon sat and Robb could see his clenched fists, white and slick with sweat, trembling slightly. The discussion turned to questions of planning – return to the north? Join Renly? Join Stannis? March on King’s Landing and ignore the Baratheon battle that loomed?

“The north _must_ be the priority!”

“And have the Lannisters at our backs?!”

“There is no better time than when the Baratheons have their attention!”

“The Baratheons have one another’s attention – they’ve forgotten all about the Lannisters!”

Robb listened to them argue, weighing their words. He knew what must be done, but he would see where they stood. Ravens were being sent even now, all along the stony shore, warning of possible attacks, but it would take more than ravens. He turned his attention to Theon. His eyes had glazed over. He’d not been listening for some time. _He’s wondering if his family hate him, if he’ll ever see them again, if we’ll kill them, or if they’ll hesitate to kill him if it comes to it…_

Margaery entered the tent and Patrek Mallister paused in his argument with Rickard Karstark and bowed to her. Her eyes rested on Theon.

Robb frowned, “Is something amiss, my lady?”

“No, Your Grace. It’s only that… Maester Ercelle insists he would see to Theon Greyjoy’s wounds now,” she kept her eyes demurely lowered. She really shouldn’t be the one running errands, but he’d noticed she had a desire to help that would not be quelled.

Robb’s eyes flicked to Theon, who flushed.

“I said he was bloody quiet!” The Greatjon boomed, “And here I thought he had just matured some!”

“What’s your excuse then, Umber?! You’re twice as old and twice as loud,” Theon grinned.

The Greatjon laughed hard, “And three times as funny, boy! You’re right though - maturity is boring, all said and done!”

 “Ask the Maester to forgive me,” Robb said quietly, “I had not known he was injured.”

Robb shot a look at Theon, he hoped said that he damn well should have been informed. Theon shrugged at him, “It’s nothing serious, Your Grace. I didn’t think I need mention it.”

“Go,” Robb said, “You did well, Greyjoy.”

 

**Theon**

Margaery lead him through the faintly glowing tents in the darkness to one that was far too large to belong to anyone but The King and Queen.

“Either maester’s are getting better quarters these days or you’ve lead us to the wrong tent, my lady.”

“The maester will be here shortly,” she smiled that beautiful, sweet smile again. She shouldn’t keep smiling at men like that; didn’t she know she was endangering her virtue with that sweet mouth and those soft eyes…?

“Where is your wound?” she asked.

“It’s only a few scratches really. I’m surprised the maester was concerned; my squire told him they weren’t serious. He must be growing bored of this peaceful lull we’re having.”

“Can I see? Your wounds, I mean.”

Theon laughed, “I thought blood and gore were sights ladies preferred to avoid?”

“I often helped treat my brothers tourney injuries, so I’m quite used to blood.”

Theon raised an eyebrow at her and glanced at the entrance flap to the tent, “My lady, if the maester should arrive and find us in so compromising a position, he may get the wrong impression.”

“The maester knows of my interest in healing. I’ve told him I wish to be of help after the battles, if I can be.”

Theon was torn. On the one hand, she was genuine in her desire to help and was as sweet as a virgin. On the other hand, Theon was worried about what her help would do to him as he was very fond of sweet virgins…

“Please, Theon,” she asked.

He sighed. He stripped off his furs, followed by his jerkin, followed by his shirt. He immediately wondered if it was a mistake. Her eyes were roaming over his chest, not lingering on his wounds, but merely drinking in his body. It was innocent hunger, if ever he’d seen it.

“You’d best not look at all the men you treat like that, Your Grace,” He smirked.

She blushed and tore her gaze away, “I’m sorry. I’ve only… I’ve never.”

“Surely you’ve seen Robb…?”

“Yes. I have. But he’s my _husband_. And he’s never so… brazen.”

Theon reached for his shirt, “I’m sorry, my lady-”

“No! Please let me see your wounds first. I’m sorry, Theon. I meant nothing by it.”

He paused, sighed and nodded. She moved closer.

“This one is the most serious,” he said, showing her a wound in his side, which was long and shallow, “it stings more than anything else, and doesn’t close easily because of where it is. But it isn’t deep, so it’s no real threat.”

“Unless infection takes hold…?”

“That’s right.”

She reached out; her fingers trailed underneath the wound, lightly over the hot, bruised skin.

“How?”

“Sword. My sister’s actually. But getting sea water in it helped none.”

Her touch was so gentle, leaving lines of fire in its wake. She moved behind him, her fingers trailing across his skin to the next injury.

“This one?” she whispered.

“I’m not sure. I think, when I was fleeing the wreckage of my ship…” He spoke quietly, the memory and pain catching in his throat a little.

“I’m sorry, Theon. It must have been hard…”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not,” Theon said firmly, swallowing the memories and pain back down. He wouldn’t be weak.

“All these bruises…” she walked all the way around him, her touch never leaving his skin. She examined each cut and bruise, the attention of her fingers and her gaze, making him feel decidedly heated.

“What does Robb think of your interest in healing his men…?” Theon asked, after the silence had made him uncomfortable.

“I have not told him. I think he would not want to put me in any danger. He’d want me protected from the world,” she did not stop touching and looking while she answered.

“That sounds like Robb, true enough,” Theon chuckled, but it was nervous and _weak_.

She traced down to his hip, where a patch of skin had been grazed away completely. She bent down, her face so close he could feel her breath against his hip as she said, “this one?”

_Gods have mercy, she has no idea what she’s doing to me!_

He stepped back from her, “My lady, I think I should go and see what is taking the maester so long.”

“I am the maester tonight, Theon.”

“What?”

“I have supplies,” she gestured to a table, covered in bandages and ointments, “the maester lent me them.”

She moved towards him again, followed him backwards until he was backed up to the table. She pressed a kiss, feathery light, against a bruise on his chest, then continued to trail them down lower, until she was kneeling before him, her lips rested against the grazed skin of his hip and she looked up at him in a way that lit fire in his groin. It made him ache with desire.

“I hope you don’t plan to heal all Robb’s men this way,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Just you,” she smiled and reached for his laces.

He sidestepped her touch. This situation had definitely gotten out of hand and he needed to leave before he did anything he’d regret.

“My lady, I really should not be here,” he said, turning away from her.

“Why not? I am only trying to tend to your wounds,” she said, eyes wide and innocent.

“That’s not what you’re trying to tend to, my lady. Not that I don’t appreciate the effort,” Theon looked down at her beautiful face, lips parted and pouting, face flushed. _Am I really walking away from her, offering herself like this…?_

“Am I not… enough for you?” She looked away from him, glancing down at herself uncertainly.

“You are fairer than any woman I have ever had the pleasure to pleasure... But you are Robb’s wife,” Theon moved to pick up his shirt and pulled it over his head, before his cock could take over and instigate anything he would regret. _What am I doing? She’s willing. Robb won’t be back for ages… No! Be a better man. Be stronger._

“I did not think that would matter… to you…?” she said softly. And it stung. As though she could read the thoughts buzzing in his head, as though she knew just how tempted he was despite his protests. Everyone knew how low he was, even Robb’s own wife. He didn’t look at her as he answered, but continued to pull on his jerkin.

“I know I don’t have the best reputation when it comes to women, so I can’t blame you for thinking that… I know I’m not a _good_ man. And if you were married to anyone but Robb, I probably would,” he pulled his furs around his shoulders and looked down at her on her knees his cock throbbing, “Believe me, I would. But I just gave up my title, my home, my family… _everything_ I had for Robb…” He walked passed her towards the tent flap.

“You still have your life. At present,” she whispered.

Theon stopped, frozen, his hand on the canvas. Had she really said that? He turned and looked back at her. The sweet young girl had gone. Before him stood a young woman; taller, colder and more knowing than a moment before. She smiled, that same sweet smile, but there was something sharper about it now. 

“The little rose has thorns after all,” Theon mused, “What’s it to be, my lady; poison, or will you duel me to the death?”

“Robb will kill you himself. That’s the custom for execution in the north, is it not?” she said with complete confidence.

“I know you’re his wife, but he _knows_ I’m loyal. I just threw away everythingI ever wanted for him; he’s not going to believe I chose a _fuck_ over that, regardless of my reputation,” Theon hoped that he sounded surer than he felt. Robb hadn’t really trusted him to even return, had made it clear he didn’t trust him with his wife already…

“You’d be surprised what jealousy can do to a man,” She gave him that sweet, sharp smile again, full of knowing and he found he hated her for it, “In any case, he’d have no choice. Everyone else would believe it; your reputation against mine? It would be no contest. If my family demand your head…” she let the sentence hang precariously, “Robb needs the strength of Highgarden, now more than ever. Or do you think he’d throw away his crown, his home, his family… everything for _you_?”

Theon wasn’t sure which option sounded worse; Robb executing him as a traitor or Robb losing his chance to save his sisters, avenge his father, take back the north… losing everything… for him. _No, it wouldn’t be…._

“Not for me. Robb would do what was right, because it’s _right_. He wouldn’t execute an innocent man for the sake of an alliance,” even as he said it, he knew it was the truth.

She nodded, “And it would cost him the war. Is that what you want, Ironboy? You want him to lose everything? Are you the weak little traitor they say you are?”

“I’m not weak! And I’m no traitor! You’re the one threatening this,” Theon spat, “I don’t understand why though... how does this benefit you?”

“Perhaps I just want you…?”

He raised a sceptical eyebrow and sneered at that.

She laughed, “I’m not sure if that’s self-deprecation or intelligence! But you’re right, in any case. It’s not about you, not for me at least. What do I get out of it…? I get to win.”

“Win what…?”

“Silly Rabbit. Win everything. Justice and honour are costly virtues to hold to during war and Robb does not understand how high a price he will pay for them. Too high. In order to win, he can’t be such a good man. Sacrifices must be made. But he cannot understand that; can you?”

“Robb is a better man than me,” Theon spoke tentatively, defending Robb and admitting his weakness in one breath.

“Your loyalty pleases me,” Maragery smirked, moving in closer to him again. She undid his furs and he didn’t stop her.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Everything I do, I do for him,” she reached for the front of his breeches, began to unlace them…

“I think _he’ll_ find that hard to believe.”

“Regardless, you and I shall be the demons at his shoulders,” she spoke with a burning sincerity that flooded him as her hand closed around his length, “and the blood will always be on our hands to keep his clean.”

And she made him want that fiercely. He wanted to help her, wanted to help Robb. _But…_

“How is me having sex with you helping with this…?”

“Trust me, I don’t like it any more than you do,” She looked up at him with those soft dark eyes, laughter held in them as she leaned in and kissed him.

 

**Margaery**

“Ercelle never sent for Theon,” was all Robb said as he pushed through the tent flap. He looked exhausted, but tense.

Margaery looked up from where she was reclining on their bed, naked beneath thick covers and furs. She blinked blearily as though he’d woken her. He hadn’t; Theon had left as soon as they’d finished, and since then she’d been waiting for Robb to return. She knew he’d go straight to the maester when the council finished and then come to question her when Ercelle gave his confused reply. So she had remained abed, beautifully tousled and naked beneath the furs. She had intentionally not cleaned herself after Theon so, as she shifted, she could feel the sticky slickness between her thighs.

“His wounds weren’t that serious after all,” she said sleepily.

“The maester didn’t _send_ for him. Why did you call him out of council?”

“To tend to his wounds,” she stretched beneath the covers, letting them slide down her body to reveal her small pert breasts, and smiled at him, “Although, I feel he ended up tending to my _needs_ instead.”

Robb stared at her, disbelieving, “Theon wouldn’t” he said quietly, “you’re lying.”

“Do you truly believe that…?” she said.

“Theon is loyal. I trust him.”

She laughed, “Then you are as much a fool as your enemies say.”

“I’m beginning to think my enemies may be closer at hand than I’d believed,” he said low and dangerous, eyes narrowed on her.

“Good. You’re learning then. Now, come to bed,” she held open the covers for him, showing a little more of her nakedness, “and you can run your fingers through Theon’s leavings before you push into me-”

“You’re _lying,_ ” he growled, advancing on her, “Theon _wouldn’t_.”

She pulled the covers back, re-angled her body, so that her legs were towards him – he’d have to look along the length of her body to look into her eyes. She looked up at him smouldering, watched his eyes glide over her body, rest hotly on her sticky thighs. She spread them a little and rocked her hips as he watched. He flushed and looked away.

“He was achingly hard before I even removed a stitch of my clothing,” she breathed, moving her hands down her body, caressing her breasts, her stomach, her hips and thighs.

He shook his head, unable to keep from staring as her hands caressed her flesh, “He wouldn’t. I know he wouldn’t.”

“He has archer’s fingers; have you noticed…? So strong and deft, and as good at unlacing corsets as unlacing a lady’s modesty,” she slipped a hand between her thighs, tracing through Theon’s leavings and watching Robb’s eyes, “he was surprisingly quiet when I was on my knees for him though.”

“ _Shut up_.” he snarled, breathing hard. His hands curled into fists, she saw him almost reach for a sword that wasn’t at his belt, and she chuckled throatily; he had no idea what to do with her, no idea how to stop her… or if he wanted to. She moved her other hand back to her breast, tweaking a nipple and watching his eyes fly to it. He bit his lip and averted his eyes again. She could tell he was shaking from fury, but achingly hard for her. Men were so easy to play. Especially these green boys, who only played at being men…

“But he talked filth when he was pushing into me, compared me to one of his whores,” she pressed her fingers into herself and moaned, “made me beg for his cock. Do you want to know how he-”

Then Robb moved quickly and decisively, pulled her hand from between her thighs and pinned it over her head, his other hand moving over her mouth. His expression was wild and dangerous, his pupils blown wide as he knelt beside her, staring down into her face.

“ _Enough_ ,” he growled.

His voice was low and commanding and it sent a shiver through her. She moved her free hand down to the tingling between her thighs, resumed the wet stroke and press he had pulled her other hand away from. She undulated gently beneath him, holding his heavy-lidded gaze, but making no effort to remove his hands from over her mouth or wrist. His weight was heavy on her arm, but she’d never been one to bruise easily.

He looked down her body, watched her hand as she massaged herself. Her breathing was getting heavier and she opened her mouth, bit his palm gently and moaned. He watched as she gently removed his hand from over her mouth, guided it down her body and pressed it between her thighs. The hand over her wrist relaxed, but didn’t move. She guided his fingers to brush through the sticky residue drying there and his gaze tore away from her face. He painted patterns on her thighs in almost translucent fluid; she watched as he licked his lips, eyes darker than she’d ever seen. She smiled. This was how he should always be.

“Taste me,” she whispered, “taste him.”

Robb’s eyes flashed dangerously back to her face, but only for a moment. He released her wrist and stood from the bed. For a moment she thought she had grossly miscalculated, unlikely as it seemed. He threw his fur mantle off, removed his jerkin, but kept his tunic on. Then looked down at her, every bit the wolf she’d been promised, hungry and savage. He knelt on the edge of the bed and shifted her bodily, so that her legs were either side of him.

He leant down, looking into her eyes the whole time, and licked a long hot strip up her thigh; tasting Theon’s seed mixed with her own desire. Then he bit her, hard enough that her moan wasn’t only pleasure.

“This isn’t about him,” Robb growled.

She laughed incredulously, but it was transformed into a throaty moan when he licked her open, no doubt tasting the bittersweet salt of her arousal. He flicked his tongue against the nub, his fingers tight on her white thighs. 

He moved her legs over his shoulders and pressed a stubbled cheek against her thigh, “did he do this to you?”

She shook her head.

“Did he just push straight into you? Or did he touch you first?”

She nodded.

He stroked his fingers lightly between her lips, a teasing tickle.

“Like this?” he breathed.

“Harder,” she said.

He pressed his fingers against her mound, massaging in firm circles, “Then what…?”

“This.”

He chuckled, “And then…?”

“He fucked me.”

“You’d already sucked him then?”

She nodded, closing her eyes and rocking her hips against the pressure of his fingers.

“How did he take you?” he whispered.

“It’s not about him…?” she smiled.

He growled, pulling back from her frustrated.

She said, “Do you think I want the same show twice?! It’s you who wants to pretend he’s still here!”

He lunged forward, flipped her over with bruising firmness. Pulled her up onto hands and knees, then pulled her back against himself. His tunic was rough against her back and she could feel the hard line of his erection behind the scratch of his laces.

“You didn’t even clean his seed off your thighs,” his breath was hot against her throat before he bit her, “don’t pretend it’s all me.”

His hands glided over her flesh, one at her breast the other returning to press between her thighs as he rocked against her. The rhythm continued, the press of his hand threatening to undo her.

“Please,” she moaned, “Fuck me now…”

“Begging like one of his whores comes that easily, does it?” he growled against her neck, but he pulled back, tugging his laces open. And then he was pressing inside her viciously, but she was so wet and open, he slid in smooth and easy. His hand fisted in her hair, tugging her head back and bearing her throat to his mouth.

“Tell me,” he growled, “How did he fuck you? Like this?”

He rolled his hips, thrusting to the hilt and grinding hard against her. His other hand returned to massaging her sex in time with his thrusts.

“If you really want to know, you could watch next time?”

His hips kept their rhythm steady, but his hand tightened, unmoving against her groin as he snarled, “You will _not_ touch him again.”

The vicious growl, the commands, the pure _sin_ of it sent thrills through her. His voice had a power to it; not with filthy suggestions, the way Theon’s did, but with absolute conviction and authority that made people _want_ to obey him. Robb was a natural leader, even if he was too honourable to take advantage of it.

“And what will you do, if I _do_ touch him…?”

“You won’t,” he said, without a hint of uncertainty. _This was being fucked by a king, a man grown; not a dutiful boy, sealing an alliance._

“Fine. But if I’m not allowed to touch him, then you’ll have to find out how he fucks from someone else. Or maybe bend him over and make him beg for you, instead of pretending with me. He’d let you.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” he said, “Or I will gag you.”

She laughed, “Now we’re getting underneath all that honour, you’re quite fun,” he thrust hard and she moaned, “Do you think he’s never been with a man before…?”

“I’d know. I’m his best friend. He’s always with whores, but none of them male,” Robb said.

“Oh gods, faster!” she moaned, and he obliged, “He’d never tell _you_! _Pure_ …” she gasped and moaned, “ _honourable_ ,” she moved her hand to join his between her thighs, “ _good-boy_ ” she gasped, “ _Robb Stark?!_ ” She came harder than she’d expected, her vision swimming and her eyelids dropping, her hand and his both soaked between her legs. He finished moments later, thrusting quickly into her and biting her shoulder.

She collapsed down, boneless and rolled to look up at him still on his knees behind her; his cock was softening, poking out between his sweaty tunic and open breeches. He sat back on his heels, chest heaving.

“You’d probably never had an impure thought,” she breathed, “never even fucked anyone before your wedding night. Of course he wouldn’t tell you.”

His eyes narrowed and flashed dark on her.

“Are you jealous…?” she said.

“My wife just told me about how she fucked another man. What reaction did you expect?”

She laughed, “I didn’t expect you to demand details whilst pounding me from behind!” she lied, “You’re not jealous over me with another man. You’re jealous over Theon with me, Theon with _other men_.”

He just stared at her, his face hard and bitter. He tucked his still wet cock away and turned from her.

“You needn’t be. Let me tell you a little secret, Your Grace. The best reward you could give him for coming back to you is this: put on your crown and get on your knees in front of him. And if I have to spell it out, put his cock in your mouth and suck. He enjoyed my mouth on him more than any whore’s, but mostly because I _belong to you_. And having you would be even better. The power of having _his king,_ having _you_ on your knees for him… what could be sweeter for a man who feels powerless, who knows everyone doubts him…?”

His face was impassive and unreadable and she felt a swell of pride at his mask. He stood and walked towards the tent flap. He ducked out and she heard him call out in that commanding voice, “Bring Theon Greyjoy here. _Now._ ”

 

**Theon**

Theon wasn’t panicking. He _wasn’t_ craven. His hands were steady as he packed the meagre supplies into the saddlebags.

As soon as he’d left Margaery, he’d ordered a passing squire to take him to the maester’s tent; but Robb was there when he arrived, sounding as tired and confused about Theon’s whereabouts as the maester did. It made him uncomfortable to hear the vulnerability in Robb’s voice, so he walked away before Robb could emerge and question him. He’d known then that it was only a matter of time before Robb discovered what he’d done. He couldn’t stand to wait for that. Whatever Margaery was planning for him, he wasn’t going to play her game; he would be beyond her reach before dawn.

However, he hadn’t been lying about losing everything when he’d fled Pyke, so he’d had to dawdle, gathering supplies. He’d managed to scrounge up food and weapons. He’d intended to just take a few things and speak to nobody, but the smith had caught him pilfering. He’d questioned Theon, eyed him suspiciously, and grudgingly allowed him a sword – not a very good sword either! Dull steel, and old too… probably taken from a corpse, and a lowborn corpse at that. _Not fit for the heir of House Greyjoy… but I’m not heir. I’m not a Greyjoy. He disowned me…_

The shit sword would have to serve; he was truly an archer anyway and the bow and quiver of arrows he’d acquired were better quality. And the dagger at his belt was castle forged steel – Mikken’s work, and as fine a blade as any he’d made for Robb. It had a wolf’s head pommel, carved from the wood of the heart tree at Winterfell, Robb had said; he’d requested that addition of the smith without Theon’s knowledge or _approval!_ Theon had told Mikken to give the wolf blade to Robb or Bran, even to _Jon Snow_ if it please him, but make a new one for him. Mikken had refused. Theon had offered money and even come close to begging, but Mikken had said he would never make him another blade if he didn’t appreciate the one he had. So Theon had worn it, but he had felt like it meant the wolves _owned_ him, so he’d wrapped the grip in strips of leather, hiding the pommel as best he could. Robb had laughed, but Mikken had eyed the adjustment darkly. _He looked at me as though I’d betrayed the wolves just because I refused to let them brand me!_ Mikken had never made Theon another blade after that, and Theon had never asked for one. He _did_ appreciate the blade, he wanted to tell the smith, but he couldn’t let people see the wolf, lest they believed he thought himself a Stark. _I did not forget what I was any more than they did; always only a hostage._ But he’d worn the wolf blade always, had known the wolf was at his side, a piece of Winterfell always with him, until the morning he set out for Pyke. He’d been afraid the ironborn would find the wolf hidden beneath the leather. His father hadn’t needed the blade to find that.

So he’d fled Pyke and returned to the wolves. Robb had laid the wolf blade back in his hands almost as soon as he’d dismounted that morning. Robb had, of course, stripped away the leather hiding the wolf. Theon had felt his heart stutter at that, and he wasn’t sure if he felt accepted or betrayed, but it hurt and made him giddy all at once. _Can I wear this proudly now I’ve proved myself? Betrayed them and chosen you… does this make me a wolf?_

 

Then Margaery had asked Robb if he should have called him Stark too and Theon wondered what she had been told of him, wondered if Robb wanted him to be a Stark or not when he'd replied…

…And then he had betrayed the wolves too. The wolf blade was all he had left of Winterfell; another home lost, so soon after the first. It was too heavy at his hip now, accusing and sad. _I am not one of you._ He made to undo the swordbelt, but with his chin against his chest looking down, he couldn’t help but stare at the Kraken of House Greyjoy embossed on the front of his studded leather jerkin. He’d never been subtle and it had never mattered until now. _I am not one of you._ He scratched his nails roughly against the raised leather, wishing he could rip the beast from his chest.

His eyes were blurred and burning, threatening to spill salt water like a further betrayal; it was dark enough that he didn’t care as much as he should. _I betrayed you for the wolves… for the Young Wolf, not for the others._ A wave of sickness at his own weakness, his own _stupidity_ , washed over him. _And what will they ever give me? I will never be Robb’s heir, his hand, his true brother... Especially now. I betrayed you both for nothing._ A deep wracking breath that turned into a sob shook him. He scrubbed away the tears furiously with a filthy sleeve. He stared down at the Kraken and the wolf, silent and accusing and he felt the tide rise in him; the tears spilled over again, but in fury this time.

“I am not one of you,” he snarled. He ripped the jerkin off with a growl, yanking the laces in a frenzy, pulled off his sword belt and threw his tangled cloak down with it.

“You gave me away,” he half shouted, half sobbed as he kicked at the jerkin, “It’s your fault… You made me into this!”

He threw himself to his knees and pulled the wolf blade from its sheath. The light glinted off its polished blade as he plunged it into the heart of the Kraken in a vicious movement.

“Both of you! You pulled me in half!” he cried, yanking the blade back out, “You can both rot! I don’t want either of you!” He scoured angry slashes across the leather over and over, cutting deeper and deeper into the Kraken, wishing he could deface it. Erase it. He slashed through it until he couldn’t see it any longer, whether because of the cuts or the tears didn’t matter. He fell over the ruined leather, the wolf blade gripped so tightly his hand shook, and cried.

“I hate you,” he whispered brokenly. He looked at the mess of leather and at the blade in his shaking hand. _It isn’t them I hate...it isn’t them that failed._ He looked down at his pale chest, half covered by his tattered shirt; no crest, no jerkin, no house, no _loyalty_ , only his own flesh, weak and rotten inside. The blade was sharp enough to cut easily through the leather of his jerkin, it would make quick work of flesh. He turned the blade towards his chest, held it in both hands and took a last deep breath. _My last breath should have been filled with salt water… I should have drowned leaving Pyke… maybe the first time I left…_

“You’re all better off without me.”

 

**Robb**

Margaery had crawled under the furs and was drifting in and out of sleep, while Robb paced the length of the tent.

Patrek Mallister came in and bowed.

“What is taking so _damn_ long!?” Robb growled, “Where is he?”

“We think he might have fled. The smith said he caught him stealing weapons not an hour ago. Couldn’t stop him. The perimeter guards have been informed, but it might be too late.”

Margaery sat up, holding the furs to her, Patrek turned away nonetheless. Robb glared at her before she could speak.

“Nobody is to harm Theon,” Robb said.

“but-”

“No. Anyone harms him, they’ll hang. Go.”

Mallister bowed and left. Robb knew he was being short tempered with lords he would have been achingly courteous to a year ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment.

“I don’t suppose Grey Wind could help…?” Margaery asked quietly.

“He’s hunting,” Robb said, his tone flat.

“Robb…? I didn’t think he’d-”

Fury wrung his heart and it must have showed in his face because she fell silent. She looked small and vulnerable and he hated her anyway.

He slumped down into his chair. _Grey Wind where are you? I need you._ He closed his eyes, resting his face in his hands. _Theon, where are you?!_

And then he could see trees in the darkness, smell the grass and mud and water, and over all that the smell of thousands of men encamped close by; horses, fire, flesh, sweat, blood and waste. The forest was quiet, every lesser creature still, waiting for him to pass, but the men were moving frantically, shouting and clanging. He trotted towards their sounds and smells. As he got closer he could smell their panic, hear their tones, too high, too fast, too tight. Filled with fear. He began to run. It wasn’t long before he found the scent that was significant; the reek of blood and sweat and salt water drenching it all. The scent was strong.It took only a few moments to locate the source.

“You’re all better off without me,” the man had one long, glinting claw turned towards his chest.

He leapt lightly, easily pinning the man. The claw was knocked away. _Why would you turn your claws on yourself? Stupid!_ _Weak!_

“Kill me! I don’t care!”

He could kill him. _Should_ kill him. He didn’t deserve life when he was trying to throw it away… but this man was part of the pack. _Brother._ But fury he couldn’t fully understand burned under his skin; not the blood thirst he had on a hunt or battle rage, but a different kind of fury. He snarled again, into the man’s face, _coward! Selfish coward!_ This man belonged to his pack. His human’s pack. He belonged to… _Robb._

A furious scream of anger at Theon ripped through Robb’s chest; at the same moment Grey Wind howled in the distance. Disorientation made his vision swim for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he could still see Theon or if he was in his tent… he could hear footfalls _“Stop snivelling, Greyjoy!”_ but he couldn’t see…

“My king…?” Margaery whispered, “are you hurt?”

_“He’s better off without me!”_

“Selfish coward!” he snarled, barely hearing Margaery, straining for Theon’s voice… but it was gone. He could still smell the sea though, and blood. 

Margaery was looking at him in fear and shock; he turned away from her, facing the tent flap and waited.

“Grey Wind found him,” he said quietly.

 

 

**Theon**

He felt sick, his heart loud in his ears. Dacey Mormont pushed him through the tent flap roughly and, after the inky darkness outside, the brightness blinded him.

“Theon Greyjoy. Unharmed-” Dacey said; before she could finish, Theon felt pain explode in his jaw and he stumbled back against her. He hadn’t been expecting the punch, but Dacey didn’t seem surprised, as she shoved him back to his feet with laughter in her voice, “You and Grey Wind seem to have a similar understanding of the word _unharmed_ , Your Grace.”

Theon was still blinking against the light and pain when she bowed and melted away, as Grey Wind had, back into the safety of darkness. He wanted to raise a hand to his face, cradle his jaw, touch the split lip, but he didn’t move. Instead, he sucked his lower lip into his mouth, squeezing it between his teeth. He ran his tongue over the cut and filled his mouth with the taste of salt and iron; it was all familiar ground, after all. Robb’s gaze on him was making his skin crawl, and he knew he should meet it, but he couldn’t bear to. _The blows never hurt so much as looking into his eyes and seeing the disappointment and hatred._

“How could you be so _stupid?!_ ” Robb growled, “You coward!”

Theon frowned, _Why coward and not traitor? What has she told him…?_

“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” Theon kept his eyes lowered, but could see Robb coming closer. His instincts were screaming at him to back away, to protect his face, to run. Instead he dropped to his knees, kept his face bowed and said, “Forgive me.”

“Why should I?” Robb asked, voice low and even, “do you deserve it?”

Again, Robb’s words caught him off guard. Asking for forgiveness was expected, but King’s weren’t supposed to throw the question back for debate; that was the whole point of Kings! Theon also knew that the answer was _‘no’_ , but he damn well wasn’t going to _say that_ … maybe he’d thought about plunging the wolf blade through his own heart, but he wouldn’t have _done_ it.

_I wouldn’t have… not really…_

Robb reached for his face, tilted his chin up and Theon couldn’t help but see those hard, cold eyes boring into his. Theon swallowed, his eyes flicked to a movement beside the bed; Margaery had been still and silent as a statue until that moment. Theon immediately tore his gaze away from the thrice damned woman, but Robb was already hauling him to his feet.

“Don’t look at her, look at me!” Robb’s glare was full of pain and anger.

Theon felt his face heat and fury rise in him. _If Robb did forgive me, what would she do? Does she want him to forgive me? ‘Demons at his shoulders’ for true? What if she tells her family I raped her? They’ll scream for my blood and Robb will deny them and…_

Theon pushed away from Robb, “I am Ironborn. We take what is ours. What did you expect!?”

“I expected more,” Robb snarled, “I thought I was talking to Theon, not Balon!”

Theon swung for him. Robb caught his arm, “Do you _want_ me to execute you?!”

“I’m a traitor,” Theon held his arms wide, “What choice is there?!”

“Just when I thought there was still some fight left in you…”

Theon shrugged and gave a self-depreciating laugh, “What do I have left to lose anyway!?”

 “You do not get to feel sorry for yourself, Theon!” Robb growled.

“Why not?! I think I’ve earned it! My family hate me, disowned me, _tried to kill me!_ And your men hate me and call me a traitor despite that… _You_ hate me! Everyone I’ve ever loved-”

“ _You have_ _betrayed_!” Robb shouted over him.

 _I know._ Theon bit his tongue, his blood pounding in his ears. He could feel the heat in his face, he could see the salt water rising in his own eyes again, blurring the world.

 “So kill me! Or don’t!” Theon said, “I don’t know what you want from me…”

“The one thing you haven’t tried,” Robb said, “The truth.”

Theon breathed deep, reigned in the tears before they could fall and spoke slowly, “Fine. I’ve betrayed everyone... but I didn’t mean to. I was trying to be loyal,” Theon could hear his voice shaking on the words like a craven and it made fury rise in him again, “But I didn’t know who to be loyal to! It’s _not_ my fault!”

“It never is!” Robb laughed coldly.

“ _He_ gave me away, _you_ sent me back! You tore me in half! You pick opposite sides of a war and force me to choose between you – could you choose between your father and brother!?”

“And what of _my wife_?” Robb said, “How did anyone _force_ you to fuck her!?”

Theon said nothing, didn’t look at Margaery, didn’t look at Robb. Robb stepped closer, his eyes searching like he could see the truth if he stared hard enough. “What happened?” he whispered, “Show me.”

“What…?” Theon’s eyes flashed to Margaery, “ _Show_ you?”

Robb gripped Theon’s aching jaw, forced the eye contact back to him, “She brought you here under the pretence that the maester needed to see you... When did you arrange that?”

“We didn’t.”

“So, you didn’t know?” Robb said, holding the eye contact.

“I was with _you_ from the moment I arrived at camp until the moment I left the war council!”

“And then what happened?”

“You know.”

“ _Exactly_ what happened?”

“Robb… you don’t want to know this…”

“You’re wrong,” Robb’s eyes met his and they were intense and hard and Theon felt as though he was being hunted, “that is _all_ I want. You owe me that little, surely…?”

Theon felt shame rise in him again, “She told me the maester would be here soon… then she asked if I would show her my wounds. She said she had an interest in healing…”

“Where were you standing? Move as you did. I want it word for word.”

“Must you torture yourself…?” Theon said.

“This is your penance. It’s not much to ask, is it? Only this…?”

Theon shook his head.

“Then move,” Robb whispered.

Theon moved.

“And my wife?” Robb said. Theon pointed. Robb moved to stand there, his blue eyes boring into Theon’s as they both stared.

“May I see your wounds, Theon?” Robb asked, obviously standing in for Margaery, but with none of the gentle coyness that she’d displayed. Robb’s words were hard and bitter and commanding. Theon felt the thrill of the chase, except it was all wrong… and yet his heart was quickening…

“I didn’t feel it was appropriate-”

“Show me your wounds, Theon.” Robb repeated even more firmly. Theon couldn’t tell if he was being Margaery or not, but the authority in his voice made Theon’s fingers move of their own volition, lifting the shirt away from his bruised skin. Perhaps it was simply habit to follow Robb’s orders as he did in battle…

“He tried to-” Margaery began.

“Shut up.” Robb snapped, not even looking at her. Theon’s eyes went to her and Robb gripped his chin hard and blocked the view with his own intense gaze, “Look at me, not her.”

Theon stared into Robb’s face and swallowed, his eyes itched to glance at Margaery. _He’s angry with her too. Whatever she said, he’s furious with her. He blames her too…_

“What happened next?” Robb asked.

Robb hadn’t so much as glanced at his exposed chest and yet Theon felt more self-conscious in front of him than he ever had before. He clutched the shirt in his fists, not willing to lose the barrier, even one so meagre as this.

 “I think… I said that someone might get the wrong idea if they entered now…” Theon stuttered, looking down at his hands.

“I don’t care,” Robb whispered, and tugged the shirt gently from Theon’s hands and dropped it to the ground.

“She didn’t… She said she had an interest in healing. She traced my wounds with her fingers, got me to describe how I’d got each of them….” His face was flushed with shame and embarrassment at Robb’s look of scorn. Then Robb looked at Theon’s scratched and scarred chest, now sporting extra bruises courtesy of Grey Wind. Robb’s expression softened into one of simpering gentleness as he reached out a hand and traced the wound Asha had given him. He glanced up into Theon’s eyes, his own full of soft kindness, full of sympathy for his pain, his fingers so gentle on Theon’s skin.

“How…?” Robb whispered. Robb’s concern seemed so real that Theon wanted to reach out and touch him, reassure him that he was fine, smooth away the creases in his brow… he moved his hand to do so and Robb’s gentle eyes were full of anger and pain again. Theon dropped the hand back to his side.

“Asha. She tried to kill me. When I escaped,” Theon said, tone clipped, eyes averted from Robb.

“Escaped...?” Robb said.

“She… my father… I was imprisoned and…” his throat tightened over the word _…_

“Tortured,” Robb whispered for him. Of course Robb knew. He would have known what Theon was not saying when he described it to the council. Theon nodded. Robb’s hand moved to his cheek and it was like it had been with Margaery, but stranger and more familiar all at once. It hadn’t mattered to say any of it to Margaery. All his walls and defences had been in place and she didn’t know him. She didn’t _care_ about him. Robb did. So telling him mattered. Theon could see his own pain reflected in Robb’s eyes, and that made him ache all the more.  

Robb tore his gaze away, focused back on the wound in Theon’s side. His fingertips traced it lightly. They were callused where Margaery’s had been soft, but the caress made him shiver nonetheless. Robb’s other hand snaked around to the nape of Theon’s neck, fingers curling into his hair. Robb drew him in close and Theon felt like an animal in a trap, watching the wolf approach. And yet, there was excitement in the fear; the same way he’d felt when he’d visited the brothel for the first time.

Robb’s fingers brushed gently from the wound, up to Theon’s scratched and bruised chest, brushed lightly over a nipple and Theon felt a tingle of excitement run through him. He wasn’t sure why _Robb_ was affecting him like this, but the shiver it sent through him was undeniable. Robb pulled Theon to him and his breath tickled over Theon’s ear.

“I’m so sorry, Theon,” Robb’s voice was broken and raw, “I wish you hadn’t gone…”

Theon didn’t breathe and Robb didn’t move, except the light brush of his fingers over Theon’s skin. Robb’s mouth was still so close to his skin that he could feel his breath, hot and distracting, and the hand on the back of his neck felt like… whatever the opposite of being punched was. The strength in that hand said _mine_ and the fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck said _stay_ …

“What now?” Robb whispered into his ear.

_Gods, I can’t tell him to get on his knees for me… I want to though…_

The image of Robb on his knees, mouth stretched wide around Theon’s cock flitted through his mind. Theon bit his lip hard, his eyes drifting shut. This was unexpected. He didn’t even know why the idea of it was so arousing, but gods, it was…

“Theon…?” Robb said.

“She… she kissed my wounds…” Theon felt his face heat.

Robb pulled back from him and stared into his eyes and Theon felt the fear low in his stomach as Robb decided whether or not to do it… he felt sure Robb would scorn him for asking it, when he hadn’t even asked! It wasn’t as though he _wanted_ Robb to do it! Robb had started all this in the first place! He didn’t _want_ Robb…

“Close your eyes,” Robb said quietly. Theon felt relief wash over him like the tide and closed his eyes, feeling nervous as a virgin.

“Here?” Robb touched just below the wound Asha had given him lightly. Theon nodded.

He felt breath, hot and ticklish against his side, then felt the gentle press of lips. He bit his lip and clenched his fists to keep his hands at his sides.

He heard Robb move around him, felt his fingers trace across his skin to a cut on his back.

“Here?” Robb said.

Theon nodded. _Breath, lips… Slightly less chaste…_

Each little kiss on his back grew longer and fuller, until Robb was trailing hot open-mouthed kisses up to his shoulder, leaving cold skin behind. Robb’s fingers brushed gently against the thick cord of muscle that joined his neck to his shoulder and Theon hissed at the unexpected pain. He hadn’t even noticed getting a wound there…

“Here?” Robb whispered close to Theon’s ear. Theon nodded again.

“I can’t hear you, Theon,” Robb spoke against his skin.

“Yes,” Theon whispered.

“Yes…? Do you want me to kiss it better…?” Sweet, mocking words like sticky syrup poured onto his skin, tickling and tingling through his body, raising his blood against his will.

“Please…” Theon whispered, arousal mingling sharply with shame.

Then Robb’s tongue lapped and sucked at his neck and he forgot his shame and moaned aloud, shivering at the patter of kisses layered over his skin. Robb chuckled softly against his neck; Theon felt humiliation rise anew at his own shameful sounds and his eyes flickered open to see Margaery reclining on Robb’s bed in front of him, eyes fixed on them. She was naked and beautiful, but it stirred nothing in Theon at that moment; perhaps it was because it didn’t compare to the new thrill of Robb’s mouth at his neck, perhaps it was because he’d already had her... perhaps it was because her eyes looked full of tears as she watched them together. _She’s watching her husband with someone else… Is this what the punishment is about? Showing her what she did to him?_

Robb’s hand found Theon’s hip, fingers stroking and teasing the skin along the line of his breeches; he saw Maragery’s eyes tracking the movement and felt guilt rise in him, even as his own treacherous blood rose too. His arousal was painfully obvious to Margaery. He felt caught between them; pleasure and guilt. _This is the point, isn’t it? To make me feel remorse…_ Theon began to step away from Robb. _He’s only pretending, I’m not supposed to like it. This is punishment… Isn’t it?_

Theon felt strong fingers gripping his hips, pulling him back. Robb’s hands stroked up his body from his hips, one stopping against his stomach the other resting over his heart, both pulling him back against Robb’s warmth behind him. Flush against Robb, he could feel that he wasn’t the only one affected by the situation… or at least he thought so; it was difficult to tell through thick breeches. Then Robb ground his hips firmly against Theon and he was sure. _Robb is enjoying this… which means… which means…_

“Stay,” Robb breathed into his ear, “Stay and let me fuck you…?”

Theon felt a heady thrill of arousal rush through him; his cock, hard as it already was, grew harder still at those words… at the thought of Robb doing that to him. He bit his lip and his eyes fell shut, his face hot. Theon nodded.

“I’m going to fuck you like you fucked her,” Robb breathed.

Robb’s fingers moved to the laces of Theon’s breeches, but Theon laid a hand over Robb’s, his eyes focused on Margaery again.

“Does she have to stay…? Hasn’t she seen enough?”

“No. She’s going to watch. You _both_ need to learn that I do not share what is mine,” Robb said, his tone authoritative again. Theon was sure Robb’s eyes were fixed intently on Margaery, as hers were fixed on him.

Robb stepped back from Theon, leaving his back cold. Theon began to turn, but Robb met him half way. They stared at one another… Robb wasn’t the same person he’d been when he’d quietly told Theon to close his eyes a few minutes ago. Now he’d covered Theon’s skin in kisses, ground his hard cock against him, told him he was going to fuck him… got Theon as turned on that any whore had ever managed, and with less work. He wasn’t the boy Theon had grown up with, he wasn’t the brother he’d learnt swordplay with, and he wasn’t the king he'd knelt to… 

Robb’s eyes caught on Theon’s mouth. Theon wet his lips self-consciously. He could still taste blood. Robb’s hand moved to caress his face, touching the bruised and bloodied skin gently, his thumb swiped over the split lip.

“Here?” he asked, his eyes catching on Theon’s again.

Theon knew he was shaking with the high running through his blood. He stared at Robb’s mouth and then at his eyes. He nodded. Robb leaned in, mouth hovering above Theon’s, then he ducked his head away and kissed his bruised jaw, trailing kisses lightly over the tender skin. Robb’s hand cupped the back of his head firmly and Theon could do nothing but stand… barely stand…

His blood was hot and high, and his body was demanding things he’d never considered, but Theon wasn’t about to start questioning it when it felt this good. Hedonism had always been his way; thinking hadn’t.

"I was never going to hurt you, you know?" Robb whispered.

"Even if, by the law, you _should_ execute me…? You'd throw away everything before you'd do that…?" Theon shook his head, "I'm not worth that, Robb."

"You don't get to decide that. I'm the king, or have you forgotten… do you need to take the knee again…?" Robb smirked and put a hand on Theon's shoulder, pressing him down. Theon got to his knees and Robb's fingers carded through Theon's hair, stroking and then grabbing a loose fistful. Theon reached for Robb's laces and undid them with shaking hands.

"Fuck," Robb whispered, "I'd be lying if I said this wasn't what I was imagining the first time you took the knee for me…"

Theon was shocked. He'd never imagined Robb might have wanted this, but it sent a thrill through him that was more powerful than anything a whore's act had ever made him feel. Robb wanted him. Robb was the best person Theon knew, he was the King, the lord of Winterfell, Robb was beautiful and honourable and courageous… Robb was everything Theon knew he'd never get close to. Theon knew in that moment that he wanted more than anything to prove to Robb that he was worth all that. He didn't want to be a disappointment… he _wouldn't_ be one.

Theon smiled up at Robb and Robb bit his lip, staring at Theon's mouth with hunger Theon had never seen in his eyes before.

Theon drew Robb's cock out and Robb moaned just at that casual touch; he was already leaking fluid. Theon held it firmly in his hand and leant forward until his breath ghosted over the head and Robb's fist tightened in his hair.

"Please," Robb gasped and Theon knew that even though he was the one on his knees, he was also the one with all the power.

He licked the head of Robb's cock and Robb made a choked sound that Theon really wanted to hear again. He licked all the way from root to tip wetly and then took the head into his mouth, massaging with his tongue.

"I'm sorry Theon… I was supposed to do this for you… with my crown on…" Robb gasped, eyes half open and glassy on Theon, one hand fisted in his hair, the other cupping the back of his head, but not forcing him. Theon had one hand on Robb's hip steadying himself, the other had been stroking Robb's cock, but as he took more of Robb's length into his mouth, he moved his hand to cup Robb's balls. Robb jerked at the touch and pulled back from Theon quickly, making Theon lose his balance and fall forward onto his hands and knees.

"Sorry," Robb gasped, clutching his cock tightly in his fist, "I don't want this to be over yet… and it was about to be."

Robb was flushed from more than arousal and he looked away from Theon self-consciously. Theon smiled - that Robb could still be embarrassed or shy when he could do anything, have anyone… it didn't surprise him exactly, but it wasn't what anyone else in his position would be like. Only Robb.

"Take off your clothes and get on the bed," Robb said, command ringing in his voice only moments after that embarrassment. Theon didn't hesitate, but he did watch Robb watching him; once he was naked, he looked at Robb and lowered his hand to his own groin. Robb groaned and turned away.

"I don't know how this is going to work if you can't even look at me!" Theon laughed.

"Just give me a minute…" Robb said, "and get on the damned bed!"

Theon watched Robb struggling with his boots and breeches for a moment, then turned to do as he was commanded. Margaery was still lying there watching them, still naked and beautiful, her hair tousled and her expression amused. Theon had forgotten about her again. Their eyes met and she smiled as though she had just given him a present she could see he loved… she had, he supposed.

"Was this how you planned it…?" he murmured.

"I don't know what you mean," she said, almost looking truly confused, but there was a smile she couldn’t quite hide in her eyes, around her mouth.

"And what if he'd executed you for fornication…?"

"He'd have lost you too, and Highgarden… he's a just man, but he's not Stannis."

"You know what, Robb…? I actually _like_ your wife…" Theon mused, smiling and not taking his eyes off of Margaery.

Robb's fingers closed hard on Theon's shoulders, turning him roughly around. The laugh that had burst forth died in Theon's throat as he saw the look in Robb's eyes; betrayal all over again, anger, pain.

"I _know_ you like her!" Robb snapped, "That's the problem-"

Theon pressed his mouth over Robb's, cutting off his words. Theon pulled back grinning before Robb could respond. "You're jealous," he laughed.

Robb glared, "You slept with _my wife_."

"Instead of sleeping with _you_ , you mean," Theon grinned with smug satisfaction, "I can't believe you did all this because you were _jealous_!"

"Shut up!" Robb snapped pushing Theon back on to the bed, a pale flush lighting up his cheeks. Theon put his hands behind his head and leered up at Robb's body, all hard lines and pale skin. Then he shuffled himself backwards, further onto the bed, until he felt the softness of Margaery behind him. He laid his head gently against her stomach and watched the storm churn in Robb's eyes.

Robb's eyes met Theon's and he clenched his jaw hard, but Theon's smile was easy and when he wiggled his eyebrows all the tension drained from Robb and a laugh burst from him.

Robb shook his head still laughing, "I hate you, you smug bastard!"

He grabbed hold of Theon's legs, pulling him back towards him and trailing kisses against his skin as he went. Robb gripped Theon's hips and kissed his thighs, his stomach - everywhere but his cock, which was getting harder again after the brief respite of laughter and banter. Theon's legs were spread around Robb already, but Robb spread them wider so he could kiss the insides of his thighs, all the way up to his balls and Theon made a desperate noise as Robb licked one of them, took it into his mouth and swiped his tongue against it.

"I thought you were going to wear your crown…?" Theon gasped, watching Robb through fascinated half-closed eyes.

"Next time," Robb said, moving up onto his knees and looking down at Theon. Robb's cock was standing against his belly, achingly hard and flushed dark and Theon stared a moment, knowing what was going to happen next. Robb shifted Theon about so that he was still on his back with his legs spread, but he was in a position where Robb would be able to thrust into him easily. Robb lined himself up and Theon could feel his cock pressing against him, but he knew it would not go so easily; Theon knew from having had anal sex that you couldn't just thrust yourself in like that and he was about to say so when Margaery laid a gentle hand on Robb's shoulder.

“You can’t just push right into him as you would a woman,” Margaery said quietly, next to his ear.

Robb looked awkward and embarrassed again, but she took his hand gently. Theon felt almost intrusive when he saw the look they shared; so soft and full of understanding. But then she looked at him, with a smile as she laid Robb's hands on his thighs and guided them.

“You have to start with your fingers… stretch him open to you…”

Theon felt a thrill run through him at the thought that Robb had never had a man before, had never done _anything_ like this before - but at the same moment, the strangeness of Robb’s wife guiding him in this was not lost on Theon. It was not unpleasant though. They were both beautiful and powerful and they both wanted him.

"You'll also need oil or a salve to ease the way," she moved up to the head of the bed, reached under the cushions and produced a small bottle, "Maester's have many things that will serve…"

Theon watched as she poured the fluid over Robb's fingers. Then he felt Robb’s fingers circle and massage the ring of muscle, gently pushing inside. The sensation was strange, a slight burn, but at the same time cooler than his flesh. He felt Robb's finger move inside him, crooking slightly, moving in and out and he heard Margaery's muttered, "another minute of this and then another finger."

Theon felt the burn a little more when the second finger went into him, stretching him open further. He tried his best to relax; he knew it got better, but it took time and lubrication. He also knew that his cock was softening again and Robb was looking a little disheartened.

Margaery ran a hand down Robb's back and moved her other hand to where Robb's fingers were moving in and out of Theon, adjusting the angle that his fingers were moving at. Each thrust was coming in a different places now and then suddenly a wave of bliss ploughed its way through Theon and he gasped loudly, "Fuck!"

Theon was lost to waves of pleasure as Robb hit that spot over and over, until the fingers withdrew and he whined.

“You would be better to take him from behind, rather than on his back,” Margaery said.

“No, I want to see his face,” Robb said.

“The angle will be less painful for him,” Margaery said.

Robb frowned, nodded and began to move.

“No,” Theon said, “I would rather have pain and look into your eyes.”

Robb shook his head.

“Please, Robb…?” Theon whispered.

Robb bit his lip, nodded, “Alright. But tell me if it hurts too much.”

Robb shifted and lined himself up again and Theon felt the tip of his cock again, pressing and this time entering him and it still burned, but the fingers had definitely loosened him up enough that it wasn't entirely unpleasant. Theon watched Robb's face; his eyes were shut, his mouth was open and he was frowning in an almost pained look of concentration. It probably should have been funny, but Theon couldn’t remember ever having seen anything that aroused him more. Once Robb was all the way in it was like he was frozen, just breathing in and out and nothing more.

"You know, you can move," Theon said, smirking.

"I will," Robb gasped, finally opening his eyes and staring down at Theon, "I just need a moment to appreciate the situation."

Robb's eyes swept up Theon's body, from the point at which Robb's cock was stretching him open, over Theon's own erection, not yet diminished by pain, and all the way up to his heavy lidded eyes. Robb smiled and leaned down to cover Theon's mouth with his own, kissing him slowly and deeply, licking away the blood from earlier and pressing him tongue into Theon's mouth. Then Theon felt the first roll of Robb's hips, while their mouths were still locked together and he gasped against Robb's lips.

"I've wanted this," Robb whispered against his mouth, "for as long as I knew what _wanting_ was."

Then Robb moved his hips all the way back and thrust hard all the way back in, again and again, searching for the spot that would make Theon crazy again. When he found it Theon arched off the bed moaning wantonly, "Robb! Please!"

Robb was only too happy to oblige, thrusting in hard and fast and Theon knew he wouldn't last long. Robb's hand closed around Theon's cock and he worked him in time with his thrusts. Theon felt his orgasm rising inside of him, letting him fly high and then dropping him off the cliffs edge as he spurted over his own chest and Robb's hand. Robb let go of Theon's softening cock, ran his hand through Theon's seed, up his slick chest until it was clasping the back of Theon's neck; he pulled Theon into a bruising kiss as he came inside of him.

 

**Robb**

They lay there panting against one another's mouths, Robb still on top of Theon, still enclosed in him. Robb kissed Theon one last time before pulling out and rolling off of him. He lay on his back next to Theon, still breathing deeply and just when he was sure Theon was about to fall asleep he shifted to face him. Theon turned his head to face him and their eyes locked. Robb found himself searching for promises in those eyes that he wasn't sure he'd ever get.

 “You’re mine," Robb whispered, "Nobody else touches you again. Ever.”

"What?" Theon laughed, "Nobody? Ever?"

 “Mine,” Robb repeated, moving closer and pressing kisses along Theon's jaw, “No more whores.”

“What about women I _haven’t_ paid…?” Theon said, "They do exist you know!"

“No more _anyone else_ ,” Robb said, eyes hard despite his smile, “You want sex, you come to me.”

“I’m sorry, but you want me to never put my dick inside _anyone_ ever again?” Theon said, incredulous.

“I didn’t say that.” Robb smiled, rolling back onto his back and pulling Theon against him. Robb had expecting him to resist, but perhaps he was distracted by the implications.

“But- you… You said….wait, you’d let me…?” Theon said.

“Maybe you wouldn’t moan about having to attend council if I let you bend me over the table afterwards…?” Robb said, looking down into Theon's face.

“Oh, I’d moan…” Theon grinned, kissing him lightly on the shoulder, before resting his head against Robb's chest.

“I look forward to it,” Robb said, holding Theon tightly and smiling to himself.

As Theon's breathing evened out, Robb turned his head and saw Margaery standing in the shadows; she'd moved away and given them space, put on a jade silk slip that didn't hide anything and waited. His eyes were soft on her and he beckoned for her to come closer.

She walked to the bed and looked down at them together. He wasn't sure what he saw in her eyes, whether it was satisfaction or envy he couldn’t say.

"Come here," he whispered, hoping not to disturb Theon.

Maragery hitched the slip up and crawled onto the bed. She wasn't moving seductively now, just her natural grace and the slide of silk on fur.

"You're mine too, you know?" Robb said, cupping her face in his free hand - the one that wasn't stroking circles on Theon's back. He drew her in and kissed her on the mouth, gentle and chaste, then he put his arm around her and pulled her against his other side.

"Thank you," he whispered against her hair.

"You're welcome," she breathed against his chest.

 

 

 

**Epilogue - Margaery**

_Damn this heat!_ She was sweating even in the thin silk, her swollen belly, matching her swollen ankles - _why must ladies wear heels and skirts and look perfect all the time?_ She sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow.

"Drink, Your Grace?"

"Please," Margaery said, glaring at the cloak Nessa was folding and placing in her trunk. Right now she couldn’t imagine anything worse, but she knew the child must be born at Winterfell. It was what Robb wanted.

She put a hand on her swollen belly and smiled, "You'll be born into the cold, but don't worry, my love, we will go to Highgarden afterwards and you've never seen a more beautiful place…"

A knock came at the door, followed by a squire still dusty from travel, "The King has returned, Your Grace."

She nodded, not bothering to ask where he was - _with Lord Greyjoy_ , of course. She remembered the first time Greyjoy had returned to Robb, at the war camp all those years ago and she'd seen Robb light up. And he still did. She felt an ache in her chest, as she often did when she thought about it. She didn't resent them what they had, and she knew that Robb loved her - Theon loved her too - but, it would never be what they had. She'd never had that with anyone.

"I must go to the King," Margaery said, "make sure you pack my gowns for when I'm thin again, Nessa, we live in hope!"

Margaery's skirts swished around her legs as she hurried through the red keep, her heels clacking quickly against the marble.

She slipped into the chamber and she could hear Theon's laughter already. As she peered around the corner she saw Theon pressed back against the wall, Robb kissing him passionately.

"I missed you," Robb muttered against Theon's mouth.

"The door isn't even locked!" Margaery chastened, grinning as Robb jumped.

She stood with her hands on her hips and Robb turned and gaped at her, "Look at you," he said, rushing towards her. He ran his hand over her belly, got down on his knees and laid kisses against it through the silk. Then he looked up into her eyes, "I almost forgot how beautiful you are."

"And I almost forgot how much of a liar you are! I'm the size of a bear and sweating like a pig, but I appreciate the sentiment," she smiled down at him.

Robb stood and pushed back a curl of hair from her face, laid a kiss against her forehead and whispered, "I missed you too."

Margaery tried not to compare the passionate kisses Theon had received against the wall, to the chaste one she'd got on her forehead or the little baby kisses littered across her belly.

The door burst open and two children flew in laughing and screaming, an older boy chasing a younger one.

"Daddy, mummy!" Loras squealed and grabbed her leg, burying his face in her skirts as Eddard grabbed him, tickling him mercilessly.

"Eddard! You are supposed to be helping Loras pack!" Margaery chastened, smiling at her older son.

The dark haired boy levelled his grey gaze on her and grinned, "I _am_ helping him - to overcome adversity!"

Theon laughed and Margaery shook her head and wondered, not for the first time, how many of the court suspected his parentage. Robb never questioned it, and not because he was stupid or naïve; he loved both boys equally, even if he did perhaps love Theon more than he loved her.

Robb picked up his older son easily and flew him through the air as he squealed, "See how you like it, little man!"

Loras was lying at her feet panting from laughing so hard. She scooped him up, knowing that soon she wouldn't be able to lift him, partly due to his size and partly due to hers. They grew like weeds and her time was drawing closer. Loras buried his face against her throat and she stroked his curly red hair.

Robb whirled Eddard around, passing him over to Theon easily in a dance they'd done with the boys many times; Eddard and Loras both still squealed and laughed every time though.

Loras looked up at what was happening and wiggled his way out of her arms and ran headlong into the fray, shouting and squealing.

She watched as Robb and Theon got tired of throwing the boys about and Eddard climbed onto Theon's back, telling him excitedly about the archery lesson he'd had with the Master-at-Arms that morning. Loras began to pull on Theon's tunic, insisting that he'd had a lesson too, despite Eddard's loud denials. Theon looked put upon as Loras began to climb up him as well, but truly he managed the two of them easily clmabing over him. He shared a look with Robb that Margaery knew well and she smiled.

Robb left Theon to the mercy of their sons and walked back to where Margaery was standing, hands on her hips; he moved behind her and wound his arms around her, his big hands resting over her swollen belly. Margaery leaned back against him and felt safe and lucky, as she watched Theon play with the boys. Maybe Robb loved Theon with a passion he would never have for her, but he still loved her more than a lot of people ever got loved in their entire lives… but truly, what made her heart swell was their children, their _family_ … that was something deep and strong and overwhelming that she'd never expected to have with anyone besides her brother, Loras. Somehow they had steered their way through the ambushes and attacks and ended up on top after the game of thrones was done.

"I love you," Robb whispered against her temple, adding a kiss on top of the words, "I love all of you."

She smiled and turned enough to look into his eyes, "I love you too."

 

\-- fin --

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt on asoiaf kinkmeme: 
> 
> Margaery is Robb’s queen. She notices the Robb/Theon feelings.  
> She fucks Theon and makes sure Robb knows/sees.  
> Robb in angry/jealous, and fucks her hard in their chambers; later he fucks Theon right in front of her. Theon doesn’t quite get it’s about him until the end.  
> (possessive!Robb and manipulative!Margaery is a nice plus ♥)  
> Bonus: Theon tried to say no to Margaery because she’s Robb’s wife (& Margaery doesn’t care about Robb wanting/being in love with Theon as long as she still get some).


End file.
